


Sixteen Points of Articulation

by Tawryn



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (or does he?), Clint gets his fully poseable action figure, Clint has a fetish, Dirty Talk, Light Dom/sub, Long Distance Relationships, M/M, Phil has a fetish, Phil wears his field suit, Phone Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Some exhibitionism, Yup more ridiculous porn again, because sex is funny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 19:31:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1110678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tawryn/pseuds/Tawryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Phil has a fetish</i>
  <br/><i>Hawkeye action figurine</i>
  <br/><i>hot, dirty phone sex</i>
</p>
<p>also,</p>
<p>
  <i>haiku descriptions</i>
  <br/><i>are harder than you would think</i>
  <br/><i>refrigerator</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sixteen Points of Articulation

**Author's Note:**

> So, I’m incapable of writing anything but short, ridiculous smut as of late.
> 
> I have a problem.
> 
> And the only solution is _more porn._
> 
> (I tried to tone down the italics. Tried.)

 

            “So, my action figure prototype came today.”

            The likeness is pretty uncanny. Except for the fact that the toy is  _jacked_ ; his biceps are totally exaggerated, but fuck if Clint will actually admit that out loud. The molded plastic figurine even comes with a quiver and spring-loaded bow action. He uses it to shoot a tiny arrow at Natasha.

            “I know,” Phil says into the phone. “I already got one.”

            “What?” Clint makes a face at Natasha, conveying his abject disbelief. She snickers from her perch on the other side of Stark’s ridiculously large, ridiculous comfy couch. “How is that even possible?”

            “I have ways,” he says, and Clint can hear the smile in his voice.

            “That’s not what your powers are for, Phil.”

            “I couldn’t wait,” says Phil. “It looks great on my desk.”

            “Aww, babe, I’m touched that you could carve out a space among your Cap shrine.” Clint pauses, feeling suddenly overwhelmed by the distance between them. “You thinking about beating off to it since you can’t have the real thing?”

            “No,” he huffs out in a quick laugh. A little  _too_  quick.

            “Oh my god, you already have!” Clint crows. “Jesus, this is just like  _Grandma’s Boy_. Is this my life? This is my life, wow.”

            “Clint. I have not jerked off to your action figure.”

            “But you want to. You’ve thought about it.” Clint sticks his tongue between his teeth and grins. He pitches his voice low, the way Phil likes it. “ _Come on, Hawkeye. My cock is defeated and it’s all up to you to avenge it. Such a dirty, dirty sniper. Let’s see what’s under that field suit. Commando? Mmm, you know I like that._ ”

            “You’re terrible,” Phil laughs, but it’s shaky and holy hell, Phil is actually getting turned on.

            “That’s right, tell me how bad I am, Phil,” Clint rasps throatily. He cuts a look across the room to Natasha and she disappears without a word. “Tell me how you want to punish me.”

            Clint hears Phil drag in a ragged breath. He imagines him palming his dick through his pants. Imagines him locking the door to his office on the Bus and groans.

            “What are you wearing?” Clint licks his lips.

            “My field suit,” Phil replies dryly, and that fucking straight-laced tone goes straight to his cock.

            “You’re such a liar.” It comes out rough, hoarser than he intended. “But damn, I wish that were true. You need to wear it more. You look so hot in it, Phil.”

            “Who says I’m lying?”

            “Fuuuck.” Just the thought of Phil wrapped up in that tight, black layer of badass has him hard. “If I were there right now…”

            Phil breathes heavy into the phone. “What would you do if you were here right now?”

            “I would kiss you, for starters. God, you’re such a great kisser, always get me so hard just from that,” Clint says. “Then, I’d fucking unzip that suit with my  _teeth_.”

            Clint imagines it, getting his incisors around that circle pull ring and unraveling the zipper’s teeth. He’d do it slowly, looking at Phil the whole time. Phil would probably run his fingers through his hair—no, he’d keep his hands at his sides, balled into fists. He would wait to touch Clint, prolong the anticipation, drag it out.

            “I’d like that.” Phil’s voice is husky. “Would you get on your knees for me?”

            Clint’s brain empties and he shoves his hand in his pants.

            “I would  _love_  to get on my knees for you, sir,” he says, shifting to get a better grip on the phone. “Sitting in front of you, begging you to let me suck your cock. I want to put my mouth on you so bad, Phil.”

            Phil panting into the phone is too goddamn hot. Clint fists his dick, strokes it, feels the pleasure slowly unfurl in his gut.

            “Yeah,” Phil breathes out. “You’re such a cockslut for me, aren’t you?”

            “Jesus, Phil,” Clint gasps. “You can’t just say things like that.”

            Phil chuckles, dark and shady. “Say things like what? How much you love my cock? But you do, Clint. You’re a filthy slut and you know it.”

            Clint must be making some pretty embarrassing noises right now and he gives exactly zero fucks.

            “Would you beg for me? You beg so pretty, especially when I work you open with my tongue.”

            He does, fuck Clint knows he does. He imagines Phil behind him, working him with his tongue until he’s sobbing and pleading. Clint speeds up the hand inside his boxers, thinks about Phil doing the same thing 2700 miles away.

            “God, I want you inside me,” Clint whines. “Miss your cock filling me up, making me take it. I want you to fuck me rough and hard, want to feel it when I sit for days.”

            “Wish you were here so I could take you apart,” Phil’s voice rumbles in his ear. “So I could fuck you until you cry and shake, watch you come all over yourself with my dick in your ass.”

            “Fuck,” he moans, the tension in him coiling up. “I’m close.”

            “Come for me, then,” Phil says. “Do it now, Clint.”

            He does, orgasm flashing through him, white-hot and  _good_  as he makes a mess in his drawers. Phil’s bitten off groan tells him he’s coming too and Clint’s hips jerk into his fist. He rides the aftershocks, blood rushing in his ears and drowning everything out.

            His sticky hand is still working his dick when Steve walks in.

            “Shit.” Clint startles. He doesn’t try to take his hands out of his pants though, because it’s pretty obvious what he’s been doing and it’s not playing sudoku.

            “Uh,” Steve says. “I’ll just…” and bless him, he turns around and walks back the way he came.

            “What happened?” Phil asks.

            Clint can’t help it. It starts out as a nervous giggle, but soon he’s clutching the phone and his stomach is hurting because he can’t stop laughing at the fact that  _he just jerked off to phone sex with Phil in the living room of the Tower_.

            “Clint?”

            “Oh god,” he finally manages, wiping tears from his eyes. “So, may have neglected to mention that I’ve been sitting on Stark’s couch this whole time.”

            There’s a pause. And then Phil’s deadpan agent voice is back.

            “You jerked off in Tony Stark’s living room.”

            “Yup,” Clint grins. “Cap walked in on me at the end there.”

            Phil is silent for a long moment, before, “ _Christ._ ”

            “Oh my god, of course you think that’s hot, you dirty perv,” Clint snorts. “I’m sure it’s not the first time he’s seen a guy rub one out. Couldn’t have had much privacy in the trenches.”

            He wipes his hand on a semi-clean spot on front of his pants; they’re going straight in the wash anyway. Clint sighs.

            “Wait,” he says, remembering. “Are you even wearing your tac suit?”

            “Would I lie to you?” drawls Phil.

            “You’re wearing it next time I see you,” Clint demands. “We can even call Steve, pretend it was a butt dial.”

            That startles a laugh out of Phil. Clint is feeling light and happy, definitely in a better mood since before he’d called. Sure, the long distance sucks. But it’s worth it ‘cause yeah, there’s nothing in the world better than Phil Coulson’s laughter.

            “Just promise me one thing, Phil?” he asks.

            “What?”

            Clint grins.

            “Keep your pervy hands off my action figure.”


End file.
